By Shem Onderi
It moves fast—
faster than other machines on the road.
Its wheels are standard,
yet each one skims the surface
at lightning speed.
The engine strains in overdrive;
a higher gear is always advised.
Reverse waits patiently
for the moment of arrival,
for parking after the mission.
The siren commands the journey:
all others must yield.
This is no ordinary vehicle,
nor an ordinary driver.
Also Read
The driver seems to possess
more than one mind,
more than one hand.
The steering wheel is gripped tight,
the pedal pressed without doubt.
Perhaps vehicles with sirens
never truly touch their brakes.
They move fast—
yet sometimes, only fast enough
to save a life.
Traffic jams are no obstacle.
The opposite lane offers escape.
With the siren on,
the driver enters another world;
the machine almost learns to fly.
With the siren on,
the vehicle must not fall—
it must become steadier,
giving the driver licence
to borrow speed from danger.
A siren means a life in the balance,
an emergency demanding answer:
a patient fading,
a fire growing.
The siren is harsh,
unsettling, disruptive—
it breaks the calm of the street.
Yet the siren is life.
